


Hums Of Gold

by letsgobacktoMidnight



Category: overwatch
Genre: Alien Spaceship AU, Alien!Symmetra, Blood, F/M, Falling In Love In Space, Fluff, Injury, Oasis Skin, One Shot, SYMMENJI, reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11615556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsgobacktoMidnight/pseuds/letsgobacktoMidnight
Summary: Genji's spaceship is destroyed by Talon without warning. Left barely alive, he floats through the wreckage of metal and space, until someone finds him.





	Hums Of Gold

They have no warning as the enemy Talon ship slips into their perimeter. Seconds of red lights and orders shouted through commlinks hold them, but it’s too late. The spaceship’s shield falls after the first hit from a type of energy cannon.

The Talon ship only needs to recharge for a minute.

Genji attempts to hail McCree’s ship, several light years away, but the blast hits its mark. The distress signal is lost in the cosmos. Rooms lock down to separately pressurize and keep oxygen flowing as part of the ship is exposed to the vacuum of space. He’s trapped in the communications room, desperately flailing for his space suit as the lights flicker on and off and warnings speak in monotone voices of the ship losing its controlled gravity.

The dark gray suit is on his body for mere seconds when the third attacks commences. It flings him like a paper doll as other people scream. His entire world shakes and trembles as the ship is blown apart. His helmet seals off around his neck as the door is ripped open and the air is sucked out into the open. Desperately clawing for any purchase, his fingers skim inches away from the doorframe as he’s hurtled into space.

The final blow finishes the ship, sending pieces of shredded metal through space and into his torso. The helmet is sealed strictly around his head, allowing him to keep breathing even though his suit is pierced. Sharp pressure blooms inside of him, his lungs gasps at the pain.

Weightless, he floats gently away from the destroyed Overwatch ship. Three chucks of the main ship hover nearby, as if trying to put itself back together as its organs orbit lazily around it. He can’t find a sign of a still body in the mess, and turns his head away.

Drops of red paint float in the air. After a few moments of consideration, he figures it as his own blood. His lower half screams in agony along with the metal shards embedded inside him, and he fears it’s worse than it looks.

His hands presses against the major shard in his stomach while twisting aimlessly in space. Shaking fingers try to slow the blood flow, his breaths are falling shorter and shorter each time.

The Talon ship travel jumps, finished with their mission.

His eyes close. This is how he dies. With luck, the damage to his body will kill him before the helmet’s oxygen run out. An embedded fear since he first joined the Overwatch space program. Hanzo will be furious, and he resides back on the mothership.

In the silence, he eases his eyes open. His body drifts from the debris of the ship, and he now faces planets and stars looking upon him. Judging his actions as a man and a soul.

His eyesight dwindles, leaving him with at least a last pretty view.

* * *

Pressure on either side of his body jolts him for a moment. His eyelids act as if dripping with honey, and refuses to open as he struggles against the claw like grip against his arms. It’s barely a fight as he slips back into unconsciousness. Sharpness stabs through him at the slow movement.

He fades back to a starless black.

* * *

His lungs move, but the air movement starves him. Choking on the lack of oxygen, he feels for his helmet. What surface he’s lying on has broken it, feeling as if it’s not even there. Static crackles, reminding him of broken radio waves in different pitches. Still, he claws at his throat, pleading inwardly that it may be quick.

The static pops and the pressure changes as he suddenly gasps. Rapid breaths shake his shoulders, coughing and choking on the surplus of air suddenly flowing around him in a soft breeze. His chest is an assortment of pieces jumbled in his skin, while his legs are nearly lost to feeling.

His helmet is gone, removed. Someone took it. His stomach tenses, but he groans in pain at the reflex. Better get use to it, Talon is notorious for getting information out of prisoners.

His throat clears, and his body loosens against the platform his back rests against. Slow deep breaths hold him together. Nothing binds him down, allowing him to freely move his hands but it’s of no use with his wounds.

Feeling his front, his fingers get pricked against the metal decorating his body. Slippery with liquid, he hopes he can bleed out before they get anything from him.

Static, closely buzzing in his ears allows him to peel his eyelids back. The room is dim, the light source coming from the floor rather than the flat ceiling. Pale white walls are gray in the dim light, while a platform hanging above is decorated with lines of cyan. An appendage hangs freely from this platform, cyan blue with delicate forked points that makes his heart beat speed up for a moment.

The static is quiet, but closer. Shifting his skull upon the raised platform he rests on, his eyes find them.

Humanoid, but completely alien from any species he has ever laid eyes upon. Metal and light decorates their body, almost unable to distinguish the flesh part of the form. Dark skin, rich and untouched forms their lower face, while metal hides their cheekbones. It’s a curved helmet of silver and gold, with arching horns on either side. A teal veil drops down their lower back. Cyan light glows upon the female’s chest between plates of gold and dark material.  

A goddess. He feels the royal energy flowing from her person.

Her arms are raised above her head manipulating the machine he first saw. One hand of gold claws and the other of dark skin manipulates what appears to be blue light, and the machine reacts to the finger movements.

The gray contraption above him clicks, then again. He tears his gaze back and forth between the alien and the machine. She look upon his face, or so he guesses as her dark lips part while the static sound begins again.

“Who… are you…” he barely whispers this, understanding that his body is failing. The helm of silver and gold tilt, lips closing as her fingers twitch in a different motion.

A sweet scent follows the soft breeze touching his cheeks. It fills his lungs, and his limbs lighten with the new air. Muscles tense in reaction to the sleeping agent, and he struggles to move against it.

Humans are relatively new to exploring the galaxy. A baby species to most ancient aliens already knowing how to travel jump through black holes. The horror stories told to new recruits of agents getting plucked away from their missions when they strayed too far echoes in the back of his mind. Curiosity could easily be the reason this being wants to tear his body apart.

For one fleeting moment, he wishes Hanzo were here. Somehow to pull him out of this mess and take him back home, completed with chastises and the last concerned look before they part for their different duties upon the ship.  

He grits his teeth, willing his body to fight the fatigue coming upon him like a blanket. His fingers grasp at the edge of the table, attempting to pull himself off when a hand presses his shoulder back down. He gives easily, unable to support his bleeding body. Pain radiates through his torso at the movement, and his strangled breaths rush through his teeth as he watches her continuing to twirl her one hand in elegant motions.

Slowly, he wraps his hand around the creature’s wrist, still pressing his shoulder against the platform. The skin is cool and firm, almost glass like in the smooth texture.

“Please,” he murmurs, feeling blood stain his lips. His plea is his last attempt, the language foreign but perhaps able to convey his message.

The alien tilts her head forward, gold light spilling from underneath the helmet of metal. Static leaves the being’s open mouth, lips hardly moving to fluctuate the different pitches. The creature’s hand lessens her hold, but stays upon his shoulder with light ease.

Comfort.

His hands slip from her wrist as he once again sleeps.

* * *

This time when he awakes, it’s without the fog of pain or unconsciousness attempting to tug him back. Clear and completely alert. The ache is gone, but a slight numbness lingers on the lower half of this body.

His hand carefully moves, touching his bare stomach before registering that his suit and shirt are missing. His pants are missing as well, but for whatever the reason, his underwear remains.

What ship is he on again?

It takes a soft grunt to lift his head and properly survey the room. It’s circular, something he missed while first awaking in here. The floor still serves as the source of light, flat and bright. When his detailing nearly makes a complete circle, he stops upon a gold and silver helmet. With dark lips press together, the goddess observes him silently.

He attempts to sit up, but stops short when his hips don’t move an inch. Looking down his bare chest for the inhibitor, a sharp breath leaves his body at the sight.

Sheer glass like materials bend against the shape of his torso, allowing sight of the wounds against his skin. Though bruises spot his body, and smaller cuts have stopped bleeding, deep injuries crisscross his lower stomach. He can only lift his head enough to see his waist and the padded blue cord tighten across his hips. It keeps him stable, and unable to lift his body from the table. A silver wire falls from the machine hanging overhead and touches into his skin just above his right hip.

The alien stands, a bizarrely glowing stool vanishes from underneath her as she takes a step closer. His head falls back, sliding slightly back along the platform as far as the cord will let him move.

She stops, cyan glow and metallic rings stilling with composed posture.

“Hello,” the distinctly feminine voice rings with an air of static, as if speaking through a commlink almost out of range.

He swallows, a little piece of the weight on his shoulders falling away.

“You can speak English,” he breathes out, hating how far away he sounds. She tilts her head, her fingers nails moving as if touching invisible piano keys beside her thighs.

“When you first spoke to me, your language sounded very distinct.” Her voice rings out like a melody, enticing his attention back to her lips. “I sorted through commlinks similar to the distress signal that was sent out, finding the patterns of human language and put it into my system’s matrix. I can now understand and speak to you.”

His eyelids blink slowly once, before saying, “That’s good.”

The learning and attempt at communication is very fortune news. The actual process just flew over his head but it appears it is a working method. The alien wants to speak with him, leaving him a marginal of a chance that he will not be an unlucky science project.

The alien’s hands flutter, as if anxious of inactivity. “You were gravely injured when I found you.” The static almost slips over her words as she speaks softer. “I do not understand how you came to be harmed.”

The claws, the motions. She pulled him out of the nothing of space, somehow finding him in the ruins of his ship.

“Distress signal…” he murmurs, trying to awaken deeper brain function, “You caught that?”

Her head tilts slowly, highlighting the glow of gold underneath her helm. From the light and metallic parts mixed with flesh, he’s still not sure if the alien is organic or robotic. Perhaps a little of both, but one part must be more dominant.

“Yes. Compared to your kind’s communication devices, mine is far more advance.” The silver helmet moves pointedly to his currently stable chest. The glass has imprints of red between the sheet and his skin, holding the wound together but not fixing the bleeding.

“What are you doing to me?” He demands, albeit weak as he tries to lift his head for a better view. The silver wire makes him wonder about the synthetic numbness.

“I have stalled your injuries but they must be address or you will die.” She speaks informingly, very little concern wavers the static of her voice. “I will heal you but I wish for you to know of the process before I begin.”

He looks back to the alien. Her fingers lift and twirl around each other as they rest in front of her body. A skirt flares out around her waist, revealing dark skin. More organic then machine, but one of her arms seems to be encased entirely in metal, or perhaps it serves as a prosthetic. Maybe it’s just how these beings are.

Can he trust his body in the hands of such a strange creature? There are very little options but he’s come to know there _are_ a few things worse than death.

“Why do you want to help me?” Fear strikes through his chest for even asking. The alien could take offense or realize her mistake, but he can do nothing else. “Why did you take me from the shipwreck?”

Her hands settle together, calm as she stills her body with expert precision.

“I wish to make a better universe, but such grand things begin with the smallest increments of movement.” The gold radiating from underneath her helm seems to brighten as she speaks. “I could not leave a being to suffer and die when I have the means to save their life.”

She found him beside the shipwreck, beside all the broken pieces and crew members he interacted with mere seconds before the Talon ship descended upon them.

“Was there anyone else?” He asks, already knowing the answer. Her fingers still, interlocking for one moment.

“The ships scans reported you as the only living being among the debris.” Somehow, the static in her voice sounds like a hum. It buzzes off her lips for a beat longer when the words die away.

“Allow me to heal you, human.” The static fills the air as her fingers twist just in front of her chest. “You appear distressed by the situation, but I assure you no harm will come upon you.”

Her shoulders pull back as her palms slide against each other, the palm resting against the fingers of the other hand in a flat plane in front of her chest. “I will protect you.”

The echo of her words ring softly in his head. If she truly wanted him dead or tortured or whatever his nightmares will dream up, she would have done it without asking his permission. To bleed out, and die, holds no glory. To fight another day, to see his brother again, is all he can ask.

“If it’s done by your hands, I’m sure I’ll come out better than before,” a struggled attempt at a smile touches his lips. Perhaps his last words will be flirty, but at least it’s to her.

Her gaze stills, or from what he guesses, upon him. The light touches her form, making the revealed part of her face appear ghostly. Her lips part, and static in a low hum is given to him as her fingers flutter.

With that, she gestures to the machine above him.

“You must have more questions, but let me discuss the healing process to you. I wish to get your wounds closed before anything else.”

The alien explains how her technology works. It’s extremely advance, even compared to species he considers a threat to humans. She can’t find a word in his tongue that translates to what is the base of their technology, but ends up calling it hard-light. A light that can be manipulated into a solid form, just with a twirl of her fingers. The ship and all its machinery can aid her in more complicated designs but for now it will help her with healing him. It has taken his biology and altered the very air to allow him to breathe, and understands the chemicals that will let him sleep without pain.  

Before she can manipulate the air flow to turn sweet for the procedure, he asks about her, her kind. Her hands settle for a moment, her helmet tilting as static buzzes on her tongue.

She is a Symmetra. They are beings of hard-light, metal and flesh. Intelligent and one of the most advance forms in the galaxy, they only wished to aid and improve other species. Their own planet was small, and their population low. Due to their caring nature, they tend to put aside their own personal interests to focus on building and aiding others. It is a rarity to see a Symmetra child.

When asking of others being on the ship with her, the static in her throat crackles for a brief moment before her lips press together. Her voice crackles again when she speaks of being the last Symmetra.

The energy flowing from the goddess is tinged with sorrow. Invisible in her voice and in the way her fingers lock together. Her face doesn’t even reveal any grief, but the emotion is thick.

“What’s your name?” a poor distraction from her own reality, but it seems to startle her.

“Satya,” she breathes the name into his veins. The ringing static makes the title smoother, worthy of her presence. “I do not know yours.”

“Genji.” He gives a smile that is once again retrieved with a soft hum. The goddess seemingly pleased with this. The static pitches and tones are beginning to have different meanings, or at least, the low humming is a sigh of content.

She stalls any further questions. His wounds are still open, and she fears waiting any longer will damage him further. The want of answers still sticks on the tip of his tongue, but he lets himself breath slowly. The injuries may be numb but they are still present. The sweet gas brings anxieties that he’ll never wake up.

Static humming accompanies him as she prepares herself. Fingers twirl with flashes of blue as the machine overhead moves with her, before she finally stands beside the platform he lies upon.

“It will be a moment to you.” She reassures as the air turns sweet, sending his heart racing at what may or may not be his last moments. His life rests in her elegant hands, and though he supposes there are worst ways to go, he wants to take her image with him into the dreamless landscape.

“I will protect you,” her voice speaks softly, echoing her words of before. “Sleep, Genji.”

He inhales, letting his eyelids slip closed. A few more brief seconds of consciousness allows him to feel a soft presence on his shoulder. Fingers cooling his bare skin before he slips away.

* * *

She is there when he awakes. Pulling himself out of the druggy haze infiltrating his mind, he attempts to sit up. The blue cord that was tying him down is now gone. Her fingers hesitate inches from his bare skin before easing him upright, then quickly retract. Her fingers twirl together, providing a back rest as he braces himself for the aftermath.

Slivers of cyan are traced into his chest, stomach and legs. Painted lines of blue erases all evidence of him nearly bleeding out. It twirls over his pale skin. Spider webs crack against his right leg over the shin. Thicker by millimeters cyan crosses over his left thigh from a wound that had cut down to his bone. It’s almost beautiful if not for the necessity of it. His fingers feel the synthetically healed lines, noting no difference between his skin and the blue designs.

“I apologize,” she speaks evenly, static ringing as he leans back. Breathing easily now, he feels better, but no different than a human should. At least he thinks. Dr. Ziegler’s going to throw a fit when she sees this, but McCree will think it’s cool.

Her fingers ghost over his hips for a moment, unhooking the silver wire with a slight tug.

“Your biology with my healing isn’t entirely compatible.” She keeps her voice lower, static pitching. “Scars are difficult to erase on human flesh.”

“Compared to how my stomach was almost on the outside of my body, I prefer this.” He cracks a grin, earning a tilted look and a flash of gold light underneath her helmet. For a moment, he imagines the same gold flashing across her dark cheekbones. Do Symmetras blush? Or is he too quick to assuming they have a human like head underneath the helmet? It might simply be a part of them, irremovable.

She gives a soft hum, composed and calm.

“I do too,” she softly speaks, fingers settling for just a moment.

She leaves through a sliding door, allowing him to obsessively touch the odd scars and trace the blue lines over his skin. The healing the alien worked has left him revitalized, eager to move and put sleeping aside for a little bit. He doesn’t let his thoughts dwell on the ship and its crew. They are all gone, but he remains. Telling Overwatch of what happened and letting his brother know he’s alive is imperative.

He is only breathing now because a goddess like being interfered with his death. She has already done more than enough to prove herself an ally.

She returns with a square platform and what seems to be clothes. Piled on top of the rubbery surface is a smooth gray paste with slight tinges of purple in it. A few quick words explain that it’s food, design to give him the most nutrients along with energy as he dresses in chrome like fabric that feels light and smooth. A flat, oblong metal utensil rests on the plate which he uses to scoop it up and eat. Her gaze follows his movement as he touches the paste to his tongue. A soft sigh of relief leaves him at the slightly sweet taste instead of an alien substance that he’d gagged on.

He eats as she produces a chair at the table he’s been resting on. A white almost budding like food that seems organic awaits her. A foreign fruit that she delicately strips of its parts with two of the same utensil he also uses. Even as she eats, every piece of her is clean and unstained.

They end up playing an odd game. He’ll stare, finding her human in parts but still the same goddess that he has no business of being blessed by in others. More than a few times he’ll feel her gaze as he chews, but slowly look her way to find her helmet focused on the white food.

Someone has to win the game eventually, and he hopes it’s her.

“Do you feel that you are well enough to move,” she asks after the both eat their fill. The chair underneath her disappears as she comes to his side, but he’s already swinging his legs over the platform. The buzzing of food and alertness is making his heart race.

“Yes.” Her fingers flutter as he steps on the ground, but she does not touch him. His body sways at the sudden use of his muscles, but he steadies himself. He takes a few steps, and she synchs in at his side. Her fingers spray out at this, but stays to herself as they come to the door that opens without a signal.

The walls curve with the light shining at their feet. It’s a good size ship, meant for rescue and retrieval. Satya speaks with ease about its mechanics and its travel jumping capabilities. The piloting room is rather large, with flat control boards curving along the wall for others to help direct and maintain the ship. A podium is raised in the center of the room, glowing underneath the dark ceiling. She steps to this, pulling literal light from the stand and manipulating it like string.

The walls melt away to reveal stars and the reddish hue of a nearby planet. Out of hiding, and ready to move. She pulls at the light, letting the ship silently drift. As they move, she explains of other distress beacons sent out by ships similar to his own farther away.

He comes to her side, leaving the stars and watches the goddess manipulate light.

They were all answered, and they defeated the lone Talon ship. She has not encountered Talon, but has heard of their cruel intentions. His fleet travel jumped away several times, but they left behind a trail her ship can track. Something he thought of being impossible, until she speaks of the ship’s instruments and capabilities.

“You’re going to help me get back to them,” he breathes out. A statement, not a question. The light colors her lips and jawline as she tilts her head to give a quick yes.

He may be leading her right to his fleet and people, but no malice colors his chest. It feels right, and as his hand presses against his side where cyan scars decorate him underneath the shirt, he believes more so than ever.

This lone Symmetra is saving him again and again.

“Satya,” he asks, and she draws her fingers from the light. The room dims by fractions, but her fingers remain steady as they step down from the podium.

"Are you truly the last Symmetra?” The truth can break many things, but it can built skyscrapers.

Her static is dry like when it hums for a minute, crackling as she walks with unearthly grace down the curving halls. A door slides open, making him pause for a moment at the sudden sight as she enters the room. It’s simplistic, with what seems to be a platform floating in the corner. She instructs him to sit and he does so while watching her create a chair from light.

Her dark legs cross each other, hands resting regally in her lap as the static between her lips pop. Hesitation holds her back, her helmet looks away.

“Vishkar destroyed my people.” The human voice is steady and clear. As if speaking about the ships abilities or hard-light, but the static rumbles. She does not fidget or move, but static energy sparks sorrow.

Vishkar is an unknown alien species to him, but she describes them well enough. Greedy beings with wants of more and more, and known for using other planets until they bled them dry. They found her home. They found her people. Symmetrie thought they wanted assistance but quickly found they only wanted their gift of bending light. Taking them, and using them to their own will, they push them on building ships and weapons for their expanding fleets. This made it even more difficult for Symmetras to found a partner and have a child. The Vishkar either were blinded by their greed or didn’t understand that the Symmetra were dying off, and none were replacing their lost workers.

She was the youngest of her kind left. Her people wanted to protect the child, and were careful to keep her safe. She drifted in this ship, growing and awaiting and plotting a strike against Vishkar, but it would never be.

“They left my planet dead,” the static nearly overrides her words, “and they left me no one.”

Many a times he has watched his brother board a ship for a mission. It’s the same rib crushing thought every time. This may be his last, and this may be the last time he ever sees his brother again. Hanzo often chastises him for being uncaring, but he’s terrified of many things. Especially of losing him or Lena or McCree.

He cannot image the grief of losing his entire people.

“I’m sorry,” it’s not enough, but he says it anyways. “You don’t deserve that. This.”

He only hopes his expression is soft enough to convey his sorrow for her. The helmet of gold and silver tilt, holding his face. The gold light under her helm brightens for a moment. The response is still new to him, but again he thinks of gold flushed cheeks against her dark skin.

“Why?” She questions, leaning forward a mere inch. The metallic helmet shimmers with her movements.

He fumbles his tongue for a moment. “Because you shouldn’t be alone.”

Holding the helmets in his eyes, he again gets the impression of eyes staring back. He waits perfectly still, letting her seen through him. A subject before the goddess who judges his worth.

“Genji.” She hums in response as he watches her fingers loosen bit by bit. “Tell me about humans, about your people.”

It’s a request he fulfils wholeheartedly.

* * *

She is entranced by the concept of siblings, much less his own brother. Speaking of familiar faces and of a worn bed causes his fingers to itch the blue scars on his skin. A small angle of her chin and a flutter of her fingers is enough to make him stop least she worry.  

Her questions are focused and eager for more details about what he is a part of. His lips seem to deliver inadequate answers but she accepts them with still thought. Overwatch’s goal is to help humanity and others as it needs to. They fight among the stars, saving lives and uniting against common threats such as Talon.

A yawn escapes his teeth, and she stills at the gesture even though his hand is quick to cover his mouth. A quick exchange reveal that Symmetras do not sleep, but humans require rest, at least six hours but eight is preferred. Her kind do have a sort of coma like state, but that is due to injury or illness. She also reveals she does not need oxygen or air as his lungs do, but subtle clean scents calm her.

At his second yawn, she stands. Her soft order leaves him lying down and resting though her image still burns through his brain.

He dreams restlessly, awaking only to turn and fall back to sleep. Imagines of a metal hand and blue light touches him again and again, but he keeps slipping into a black hole.

He awakes in a cold sweat.

* * *

She travel jumps the ship while he sleeps. The energy will need to be recharged as the ship is not meant for long distance travel. He’s not familiar with the star system they’re in and the ship's instruments are foreign. Again he places his trust in the Symmetra as they wait for the ship to regain enough energy for another travel jump

When they eat, he’ll sometimes sit against a wall rather than on a chair created by her hands. This stuns her when he turns down a seat but she never seems satisfied with ‘I feel like sitting on the ground’. She noted that humans and Symmetras are different creatures, and he agrees. His answers always feel poor and unworthy of her time, but the questions never stop flowing from her dark lips.

The ship's ability to recharge is slow. It takes a week to make the next jump. They have several more to go. The time living and breathing with an alien is full of questions and answers, both intrigued about the other.

She asks about his home, earth. Somehow he can never describe the cherry blossoms that bloom in spring to do them justice, but she listens earnestly. He asks about flowers, and the only thing that comes close to it on her home world is budding fruit but it’s not meant for simple beauty.

A lotus impresses on his mind when he tells her about roses and lavender. Fine petals with regal beauty that might be worthy of gracing her person. Flowers aromas are intoxicating and she hums at the thought of smelling one.

Their questions lead to more personal ones, about his family. She wonders immensely about his sibling, about Lena, McCree and Dr. Ziegler. Carefully she inquiries about his parents, but he can only answer that his mother died when he was very young of illness. His father passed in recent years, but it feels like a lifetime. He asks his own questions, and she freely gives answers crackling with static.

When a child is born, the Symmetra all care for them. He laughs in surprise, and tells her about a saying humans have. It takes a village to raise a child. She agrees with the meaning, saying that she did have her parents, but many cared for her.

The static in her humming begins to crackle and pop. He eases her into a topic of stars and suns, and tells her about the big dipper that could be seen from earth.

Sleep begins to hunt him, and even as he refuses to close his eyes, she follows his schedule carefully. A yawn escapes his mouth and she orders him to bed with that same essence that must be followed. He feels her gaze linger on him when he leaves to his makeshift room. Or when he eats or describes trees from home.

He dreams about what lies underneath her helmet. Gold light flashes when he gives a flirty line or tells her how beautiful she is. Though she doesn’t respond with the same actions, her fingers flutter when caring for him, or hums when he tries to convince her he doesn’t need rest.

Symmetra speak in some sort of waves similar to radio. It sounds akin to static and white noise to untrained ears. She explains that his tongue is very vocal and smooth, pleasing but difficult to translate certain meanings with only a few sentences. He asks for a demonstration on how to say hello.

A high pitch noise of static leaves her lips. Attempting to mimic the noise leaves him cracking his vocal cords and straining his throat.

A burst of static, cracking over and over in rapid succession leaves her mouth. It sounds almost like a tune trying to be carried through white noise, and his jaw loosens in awe.

“Are you laughing?” He asks, watching her lips part and body tremble slightly with the effort. It takes her several moments before she composes herself.         

“My apologies, but I see now that humans are unable to mimic Symmetra’s tongue.” The same rapid cracking escapes her lips, and his own laughs mixes with the static. She stills, but his shoulders shake as he attempts to recover from his attempt at her language.

“Are you laughing,” she asks quietly, and he stills. Her head tilts, taking a small step closer as he inhales softly.

“Yes,” he bears a smile, “it’s not as lovely as yours though.”

His breath is close enough to graze her dark jawline. Slowly, as if touching the sun, her flesh hand reaches to him. A cool finger touches a cord along his throat. One by one, the rest of her fingertips rest against his skin, the cool palm of her hand resting against his neck.

“Genji,” she hums, low in static.

“Satya.” He breathes.

Her hand rests gently against his throat. The silver and gold helmet dips for a moment.

“There is always something moving within you.” Her voice murmurs gently, static popping. The closeness of the goddess is surreal. Every time he breathes he steadies his body, fearful of breaking the moment and losing the Symmetra’s touch.

“Your lungs breathe.” Her finger taps against his throat in emphasis. “Your heart beats. Your veins move blood. Your throat vibrates to speak.”

Her helmet lifts, a steady gold light dusting the top of her cheekbones as the metal hides the source. The light may not be blush, but it means something important, like her hums or the way her fingers twirl. It may be just for him, and only him.

He hopes it is.

“I have never found a creature so joyful in existence.” She speaks with utter truth, and the touch of her gaze graces his eyes and lips and cheekbones. He wants to see her, as she sees him.

Slowly, allowing her time to move away, his own hand takes the one pressing against his throat. Her fingers are steady and cool in his grasp, a simple bridge connecting their skin.

“You move something else inside of me.” He whispers, ghosting his breath over her knuckles.

“Genji,” she breathes out, the metallic fingers of her other hand slowly entwines with his free one. “To Symmetra, our hands and our fingers are the most important part of us. They are what makes our world and what creates light.”

Her grip tightens as he lifts his head to face her helmet. The words she speaks are heavy, and it means whatever they have between them if he listens.

“Sharing hands is a strong bond between—” The humming in her voice grows, replacing whatever word that has no meaning in his tongue. Her lips part again as gold light flashes under her helmet.

“ _Lovies_.” The same cackling tune of laughter leaves her throat. “That’s what my people call us.”

_Us._

Whatever part of him, broken, cracked and bruise, fits into her grand puzzle is more than enough to want them as a whole.

It’s enough for the goddess of light and beauty to want him.

“Humans have their own way of creating a strong bond,” he murmurs gently, whispering against her fingers. “Our lips…”

How does he describe a kiss to a goddess?

“Satya,” her very name makes his body shiver with the energy of the stars surrounding them. “Will you allow me to show you myself?”

She holds him in her gaze for eternity. Her lips part as she answers yes. Releasing her flesh hand go back to her, he grasps at her metallic one gently as he leans closer. The alien does not move at the advancement, but waits with patience as his lips come to hers. The tip of his nose brushes the silver and gold helmet. A soft breath leaves his lungs, energy buzzing within the millimeter space between their lips.

“Genji.”

He pulls back, a dark swirling mass hitting his stomach at her realizing that he is only human, but her fingers hold him firmly.

“Wait, —” her humming overcomes the word, comforting and reassuring.

Her fingers slip from his hand, but the feel of her eyes keeps him in front of her. With surreal grace, her hands reach for her helmet, resting on either side before lifting it free.

A silent gasp escapes his teeth when she smiles with her eyes. A human like face, save for the black mass of dark locks, shining with shimmering dots of white. Moon dust scattered in the long dark waves. A moving galaxy in her hair.

But her eyes.

Her eyes save him.

Softly glittering stars dot the black center of her eyes. Whole and untouched by a human like pupil. Flowing like liquid from the center of her eyes is gold as bright as the sun. Eternal and rich. More precious than rubies or pearls. The black star filled center, and then flashing gold. Her dark cheekbones frame the unearthly light as he feels his soul slip into her embrace.

The helmet is placed on a stand of her quick design before her fingers lace back with his.

“Show me,” she whispers.         

His throat is closed, stunned by the sheer light and life of the alien holding his hand. The only person to hold him without a smooth line or cheeky compliment. He loses himself in her gaze, and doesn’t want to leave.

He leans slowly, closing his eyes from the beauty of the Symmetra before pressing his lips to a chaste kiss against hers. She is still, and he parts to ghost his breath against her lips.

“That’s a kiss.” He opens his eyes, finding her celestial orbs still holding him with content humming her throat.

“Show me again,” the goddess requests, and he pleases her.

* * *

They have one last travel jump left, and though it’s been only a few weeks, it feels like a new life. They express things they’ve never breathed of before. Genji’s fear of failure, of being worthless. Satya’s fear of isolation, of drifting among the stars without finding _him_.

She calls him something in her native tongue, a hum with a pop and a low pitch. A word of endearment, but when he attempts to mimic the sound Satya laughs is his own venture gained.

She lays with him, but doesn’t sleep. Nightmares rarely dust his dreams when he awakes with her tracing his knuckles and touching his hair. She tells him how he breathes peacefully, and that he moves a lot. It’s endearing to her, and restful to simply be by his side.

When he does awake with black holes and choking without air, she hums into his chest. A steady anchor to hold himself onto until he settles his lungs. The voice of static brings him back to her with words he does not know but feels in his ribcage. Her hands trace the blue scars running along his torso, a gentle gesture that helps him to settle down and slip back to sleep.

There is no fear when he opens his eyes to see the goddess’s face. A beautiful sight that he still cannot comprehend was hiding underneath the helmet.

Symmetras wear helmets for they wish to keep their hair and eyes intimate. Very rarely does one see another Symmetra’s entire face unless they are close. A privilege bestowed upon him.

He can’t seem to give his gratitude enough.

The night before their last jump, he hums to her as they rest on his bed. Her fingers graze through his hair, before trailing down his jaw and resting on the cords of his throat. He sings without words as she keeps her cool fingers against him.

His body awakes, and they prepare for the last travel jump. Her calculations are so precise and the ship molds to her every order. Metallic and flesh hands link together when they slip through lightyears to appear beside an Overwatch ship. A familiar sight as McCree and Lena will be waiting on it.

“They will be wary of me,” she speaks. A message was already sent requesting permission to dock. Genji added personal information to prove he is himself, but now they wait for any moment, any response.

“They will not harm you, Satya,” he says without fear. “I’ll be at your side at all times until they understand everything. I’ll tell them of how you saved my life.”

Her lips give into a curve of a smile, and he touches her lips with a chaste kiss. A human behavior she is quickly understanding and enjoying.

“I will protect you.” He swears upon his breath.

Her fingers dance between his palms, her own kiss as she hums. The silver and gold helmet hides her eye and unearthly hair, but he knows the goddess by his own senses now. She encompasses him everywhere.

“Genji.” Her finger rungs along his thumb, before humming soothes his soul.  “You bring joy to my existence.”

His mouth touches along her jaw in a row of small, quick kisses.

“As you do to mine,” he says against her skin.

A port on the ship opens, inviting.  She moves the ship slowly into the docking bay with ease.

Hands clasped, their souls hum in unison.

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to do a little something with Symmetra's Oasis skin because it's just too beautiful, and of course Genji would fall for a space goddess.
> 
> You can find my tumblr at hackthehighnoon.tumblr.com


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